Love in an Asylum
by KLegnard
Summary: Gerard wasn't expecting to be put in a mental hospital. He also didn't realize how nice it could be. Their were some pretty cool people there, especially Frank, the kid there for MPD. Ferard and Ryden.
1. Feeding our memories to the sea

Hey! This seems Ryan/Gerard, but I swear on my dead cat, it will be Ferard and Ryden. Soon. Enjoy!

The psych ward wasn't what Gerard had expected. Actually, it was more that he didn't expect being sent to one in the first place.

He had come home after a long night at the bar, a beer in hand, when Mikey called him. His brother had said that their parents had important news to discuss. Therapy.

Of course, it probably didn't help Gerard's case when he showed up at his parents' place at one-o-clock in the morning with a pack of cigarettes and a six-pack of whatever was in his fridge tonight close at hand.

The conversation with their parents started off with a customary 'how are you?', but soon proceeded to Gerard awkwardly sitting in a corner while his family badgered him about substance abuse, violent tendencies, and his rapidly increasing depression. His mother had shed a few tears over her 'poor little boy' and his father scolded him, because he wasn't living up to the high standards set by his younger brother, who was also awkwardly making attempts to leave the room.

Gerard sighed, stood, and left the house, ignoring Mikey silently begging him to take him with.

That lead him to now, sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the lobby at St. Jimmy's Hospital for Troubled Young Teens. In all of the movies Gerard had seen, mental hospitals had been portrayed as scary, old places where doctors wore stark-white lab-coats and carried around gas masks. The place he currently found himself in was a small facility much like the ones he went to as a kid to get a check-up. He was pretty sure that the old magazines on the coffee table were the exact same ones, too. The walls were painted a pale blue, almost white, and had numerous scratches and pen marks on them.

A young lady, possibly in her mid-twenties approached him, clipboard in hand.  
"Hello? Mister Gerard Way?" She had one of those high-pitched voices you'd hear a kindergarten teacher use, and she spoke carefully, as if anything she said would trigger a psychotic breakdown.

Gerard feigned a smile and followed her down a wide hallway. There were plain oak doors on either side of them, each holding a brass plate reading the name and diagnosis of the patient or patients it belonged to. They arrived at the end of the hall at a door with a similar plaque reading: 'Ryan Ross, Schizophrenia, Gerard Way, dissociative disorder.' The lady turned the handle, stepping aside.

"Your brother is coming along tomorrow with a few of your things, but in the meantime, busy yourself with getting to know your neighbors. Why not start with Ryan? I'm sure the two of you will get along fine. Just... Don't pressure him to talk if he doesn't want to, okay?" And with a fake smile, she turned on her heels and left. Once the clanging of her shoes on the wood floor abided, Gerard turned to observe the room.

It was a simple setup, two twin beds, one in a simple cotton quilt, the other bearing a Rolling Stones blanket, and covered in an assortment of CDs. There was a dresser in the corner and an empty bookshelf above it, both symmetrical to the dresser and shelf on the other half of the room. Except the other shelf was full of old figurines and leather-bound books. Gerard approached the bed to get a better look at the CDs. If he was going to live with this kid, he'd better have good taste in music.

"Put it down! Now!" Gerard did as told, then turned to get a good look at his roommate. He was tall and lanky, and dressed very old fashioned, which, added to the way he carried himself, made him seem much older than he really was. Gerard guessed he was about the same age as himself.

"Sorry, man. Just looking. Jawbreaker? They're awesome,"

"Oh, thanks. I love them. Sorry about freaking out at you.I, um, psycho, remember?" Ryan smiled sheepishly, shrugging.

"It's cool. So, favorite song?" Ryan pondered this for a moment, before replying,

"For Esma." He hummed a few bars, then retreated to his bed.  
Gerard watched for a moment as Ryan carefully placed all of the discs back on his bookshelf in alphabetical order.  
Glancing at his own shelf, he promised:

"Once my brother brings my shit in tomorrow, I'll have to loan you my collection of music." Ryan nodded, and after a few more minutes of mindless chatter, they were called out for lunch.

The hospital food wasn't... Well, it was like school food, plus a side of pills. Disgusting. After poking at the brown sludge on his tray, Gerard concluded that it was either refrained beans or chicken someone had thrown in the blender. Wrinkling his nose, he took a bite. He forcefully spat it back out, much to the amusement of Ryan.

"Delicious, right?" Ryan smirked, handing Gerard a napkin.

"Honestly, it tasted a bit better than the shit they served us at my old school." Ryan grimaced, imagining a meal worse than this, as Gerard wiped his face.  
The pair both placed the pills given to them in their throats, Gerard's a small orange capsule, Ryan's the standard half red, half white pill. Tipping their heads back and lifting their small Dixie cups full of water, they swallowed.

"Cheers." Gerard said, lifting the now empty glass to the air.

"Cheers." Ryan repeated, copying the movement.  
Gerard gagged, then finally managed to choke down the chalk flavored anti-depressant. Why couldn't they have given him something smaller to ingest?

So, there you go! this time, the next chapter actually will get longer, and now that class is almost out, I will outdated more. Sayonara bitches!

X


	2. Just Like Broken Glass To Me

A/N: so, here is chapter two! Enjoy!

Gerard woke to the sound of running water. Sleepily rubbing his eyes, he sat up. Ryan was in the shower,singing a familiar tune. It was something from a musical. If he had to guess, Gerard would say it was from Cats: the lyrics made absolutely no sense, and it was the only musical with names as strange as Rumpleteaser or Mistoffelees. Ryan had a pleasing voice, if not a bit common. Maybe Gerard would be able to sing backup for him if his band idea ever came to life. Of course, he would have to finish serving time here, but it wasn't so bad. Maybe Gerard could ask about joining; Ryan had mentioned something about needing a lead vocalist.

But, then again, Ryan was an excellent lyricist, and Gerard prided himself on his own writing abilities, but their styles didn't conform well to each other. Besides, Mikey had already claimed Gerard's musical soul... Or at least his vocal abilities.  
Ryan flew out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair slicked back from dampness. Beads of water ran down his face as he triumphantly yelled:  
"I solved it!"

Gerard stared at him in confusion. "Solved what?"

"The final chords to Memories. Duh." Ryan rolled his eyes in the sassy and overly dramatic way that only ever worked for him.

"Okay... I take it you're about to tell me why you're so exited about this development, aren't you?"

Ryan's face lit up. "You know that one nurse that comes in to give us our meds?"

"You mean Mrs. Happy-to-be-in-a-mental-hospital? What about her?"

"No, dipshit!" Ryan playfully punched Gerard's shoulder. "The other one. The guy with the dark hair and gorgeous brown puppy-dog eyes? His name is Brendon."

"Okay..." Gerard was still confused. "Would you mind telling me why finding out the last part of Memories has anything to do with him?"

"Well, he's really into that song, I heard him singing it earlier."

"Oh," Gerard still didn't quite understand. "Well, anyways, I should get ready for breakfast. You done in the bathroom yet?"

.o0o.

After a meal of rubbery eggs and more pills, Gerard was really thankful for art therapy. With Frank. He entered the white-walled meeting room expecting a cheery-eyed old guy teaching people how to draw a straight line. What he really saw was no elite art school, but it was much better than what he thought it would be.

Stacks of sketchbook paper, not the printer crap, lined the walls, and there were cups of charcoals and art pencils on all of the tables. A few people were even using nice inking pens. Of course, the hospital was not very rich, and most of the patients here had no talent for drawing, painting, or sculpting, but it was better than nothing.

"Hey," Frank pulled Gerard out of his thoughts, causing him to jump. "Sorry. So, are you going to stand in the doorway all day, or are we going to get crafty?"  
Gerard mumbled a sorry, then moved further into the classroom.

"Hello, boys!" The cheery-eyed old guy approached them. "I'm Doctor Smith, but you can just call me John." After their quick introductions of themselves, John handed them each a blue folder he hastily scrawled their names on, and told them to get to work.

"Doing what?" Frank asked.

John replied with a smirk, "Do whatever you want."

As Gerard and Frank walked over to an empty table, Frank whispered, "Do you think he should really be giving us free reign over the art supplies?"

"I'm glad he is, I hate being told what to draw, how to be creative. I can tell this will be my favorite session. "

.o0o.

A half an hour and three broken pencils later, Frank gave up, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, and sighing. Gerard laughed, never looking up from his paper. He refused to let anyone look at it, bending deep over it to cover his work. He fended off all of Frank's attempts to peek at it, including Frank trying to persuade Gerard that if he let him see, he would give Gerard his favorite book. They were both Neil Gaman fans.

"Bug off, will you?" Gerard shrugged Frank's prying hands off his shoulders. "I'm trying to work."

"But I wanna see!" Gerard rolled his eyes, imagining Frank as a whiny child begging his mother for ice cream. Frank could be so immature at times.

"Fine." Giving in, Gerard flicked a pen at Frank, whose eyes grew wide.

"Really? You'll let me see?" Gerard nodded, unfolding his hands from around the portrait.

It was a simple outline, not yet done, but Frank could tell it was the art room. The left corner was partially finished, and held an image of the two of them:Gerard still and drawing; Frank craning his neck to peer over Gerard's shoulder. Though it still needed work, Frank knew it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. It may have been done in number two pencil, but the way Gerard had worked gave it a depth, and a vibe that no expensive charcoals could achieve. A simple "Wow," was all Frank could get out. Gerard blushed and shoved the picture into his folder. Just then, Dr. Smith- John walked up to them.

"Hello boys! It's almost time to clean up. Did you get anything done?" Frank held up his drawing of a cat and cringed, but all John did was mutter a few words of encouragement. "It'll get better with time, just keep working." Frank glared at the snickering Gerard, who had finished cleaning his workspace and was ready to head out the door.

"Hey," Frank said, "You may be the better artist, but at least I can kick your ass at playing guitar." Gerard stuck his tongue out at the grinning boy and headed out of the room.


	3. In Forms Of Fabled Foreign Tongues

"So, did you finish that drawing yet?" Frank is curious.

"No, I just have the rough outline drawn. I want to make sure I have all of my proportions and shapes correct before I add in the shading." Gerard replies as he grabs his tray from the counter. Today's menu: lasagna and green Mush Gerard supposed was beans. They began walking to their table.

"Cool. Hey, I heard that Ryan asked that one doctor-y guy out. I didn't see that coming."

Gerard sighed, "That's because you didn't have to share a room with him. I love him like a little brother, but he needs to stop going on and on about Brendon and how amazing he is. I've never met him, but I could probably draw an accurate picture of him using the info Ryan told me."

Frank's smile widened as he imagined Gerard sitting in his room getting annoyed with Ryan. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse." Gerard stated flatly, before both of them broke into laughter.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Ryan joined them and sat down.

"Nothing much. How're you?" Gerard and Frank tried to stifle their laughter, but all they succeeded in doing was looking constipated.

"Great! Guess what! Brendon got clearance to take me to the movies Friday!" Both Gerard and Frank groaned, but even though they pretended to be sick of Ryan, they were happy for him.

"What are you going to see?" Frank peeled the crusty cheese off of his lasagna and placed it on top of Gerard's plate, Gerard flinging it back at him.

Ryan blushed, "He said he wanted to surprise me."

"How sweet." Frank said, picking the cheese out of his hair.

"I know! Did I tell you about... Oh, Hey Brendon." Ryan's face flushed as Brendon sat down next to him.

"Hey Ry," Brendon smiled. Gerard thought back to all of Ryan's descriptions of him, and figured that the mental image he had compiled was pretty accurate.

"Nice to meet you, Brendon. I've heard a LOT about you." Gerard held out his hand, and Brendon shook it.

"You too! And..." he looked at Frank. "You must be Mr. Iero. I love the tattoos."

"Frank. Hey." He held up a hand in acknowledgement.

Gerard thought Brendon seemed like a nice guy, if not a bit hyper.

"You know what? I think we should hang out some time. I've been told that I'm pretty good at video games. Especially Mario Kart." Brendon grinned when Gerard and Frank accepted.

"But..." Frank warned, "I apologize for any dignity lost when I win." Brendon just laughed.

.o0o.

As it turned out, Brendon was pretty good at Mario Kart. It must have helped him win when Frank distracted himself by bragging. It was no surprise when Frank demanded a rematch. He needed to learn to admit defeat. He now sat in Gerard's room, ranting to him about how he hated losing.

"Frank," Gerard interrupted his one-sided conversation, "Calm down. On the bright side, you always beat me." Frank stopped his pacing and laughed.

"That, my friend, was a very good point." Gerard playfully punched him in the arm and declared that one day, he would be victorious.

.o0o.

Gerard sat up all night trying to finish his sketch. He had finally started shading, and he set out to drawing soft and light shadows on the top right corner of the page. Those arching lines collided into the darker, thicker strokes towards the bottom pf the paper. He carefully added a light smear of lead to outline the doorway to the room. The background was now complete. Slowly, he filled in the foreground, starting with the smaller forms of the people who weren't the focal point of the image. People who weren't Frank.

A/N: Sorry for a very late update,and a short one at that, but I have most of this story written, so posting will be more regular. Also, I'm trying to find a good way to end this, so it probably is only going to be about 15 chapters total. Thanks,

KL


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